


As Yet Untitled

by orphan_account



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: I have no idea what time period this is, I was ill and watched the original King Kong, King Kong AU, Kristoff has a massive family, No such thing as too many Bjorgmans, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3550841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As an offer, it's far too good to be true, but when a struggling actress is given the chance to work with the prestigious Westerguard production company she can't turn it down. The whole sailing to an island to film on location thing is no big deal, but naturally the director isn't the most honest fella, the captain couldn't care less, the crew are at each other's throats and the island isn't quite the paradise they thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Yet Untitled

**Author's Note:**

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> 
> Hello! I suppose calling this a King Kong AU isn't entirely accurate, I've nicked the basic plot but there's so much more I want to include in later chapter that it might end up just being a big 'ol mess of things. Case in point: practically every film adaptation has been a 1920s sort of deal, and I love the aesthetic of it, but I envision elements of the 40s and the 50s where it makes things flow smoother. I just want cute flapper dresses and Kristoff looking dapper, this alternate mid 20th century Arendelle can accommodate that. 
> 
> \------  
> \------

Anna woke in darkness again.

Anything could wake you in the heart of the city. There were too many people haunting the smallest of streets, too many construction projects flourishing, dogs startling cats, engines startling horses. The sounds of the next house, the next street and the next block all filtered through even everything in your own little world was silent for once. If you couldn’t stand for your head to be constantly full of the heartbeat of Arendelle you’d never manage. Fittingly, Anna was certain she could sleep through an earthquake by this point.

But the whispering never failed to wrench her from her dreams.

Kai and Gerda slept only on the other side of a thin wall and exercised a lot more caution than most, but still the sounds stirred her from the deepest of sleeps. It might have been the gut feeling that it was about her. Certain words – as muffled and scarcely intelligible as they were - just struck that chord in her mind, sounding too close to her name or too loaded with urgency. It couldn’t be something like forgetting to do the dishes, Gerda didn’t hesitate to call a household meeting if someone wasn’t pulling their weight. Secrecy was more Kai’s territory but that only went as far as sneaking Anna some extra spending money or a book she’d been begging for.

The only other thing she could think of was money.

Of course it was no secret that the couple had struggled in the years since taking in their young niece, but that was because practically everyone Anna encountered in their neighborhood seemed to be struggling. There were boarded up shop fronts, homes abandoned, reclaimed and rented out for pitiful amounts. It wasn’t everywhere, and for far too long the young woman barely noticed it at all, but it was enough to nurture that unspoken tension between her guardians.

_“If she could just… extra hours…”_

Was it Gerda this time? Or Kai? The more she strained to listen to the muffled words, the less it made sense, and the less she could place a voice or tone to someone.

_“We can’t ask that… her auditions”_

She couldn’t make out the reply. After that they spoke no more.

  
\----  
  
She didn’t think about it again until she was shoulder to shoulder with others in the lobby of the Wyvern theatre, her first reason to be there after months of mailing hundreds of headshots and applications. There was little talking, at least not between the women who hadn’t come in groups of friends. Any voices that did fill the air were the mumbling of the same lines over and over again, faces buried in the crumpled script pages or hovering over the shoulder of someone who had one.

 _EPIFANIA: You must learn to take chances in this world. This disappointed philanderer tries to frighten you with my unfaithfulness. He has never been married: I have. And I tell you that in the very happiest marriages not a day passes without a thousand moments of unfaithfulness. You begin by thinking you have only one husband: you find you have a dozen._  
  
Gerda had been predictably excited when Anna learned the name of Westerguard Picture’s newest production – supposedly it had been a huge hit on stage and the screenplay was snapped up almost immediately.  
  
Although, according to Gerda, every screenplay with even a shred of promise had been bought by someone under the Westerguard name.  
  
“Miss Winters? Requesting a Miss Anna Winters.”  
  
Anna paused a moment, in case she’d gotten it wrong and some other hopeful should move first, and then pushed forward in a flurry of elbows and hurried apologies until she reached the doors and was waved through with her number and the instruction to wait at the back of the hall.  
  
The heavy doors plunged the hall into silence as they whispered shut behind her. It always unnerved her more than it should, the calm as you crept around the back of the deep red seats, gaze drawn to the stage and the lone figure upon it.  
  
The girl currently trembling on the stage had red hair too, the same modest clothes and tentatively applied makeup as all others who seemed to attend these auditions. Before she could get a better look the girl was leaving swiftly, vanishing behind a curtain and leaving Anna to automatically move down the aisles, her throat tight.  
  
The directors only looked up when she took her place upon the stage, practiced warmth spreading across their features as they fetched the sheets corresponding to her number and skimmed over the important bits.  
  
“Anna Winters?” one asked, only distinguishable from the other man by his glasses and darker suit.  
  
She nodded wordlessly.  
  
They needed no introduction to her, the sleek auburn hair and winning smiles screamed ‘Westerguard’ – Harvig and Hector; nearly every casting call nowadays had the name on it somewhere.  
  
“And you’re here for the part of Epifania, ever seen the play before?” Harvig might have tried to be genuinely comforting at the start of the endless parade of faces but his enthusiasm was starting to wane, and the other hadn’t even looked up.  
  
“A couple of times, uh, I mean I’ve read it but I’ve never seen it.” She could practically feel the memorized lines slipping into a jumble in her head. “I think it’ll make a good film! I mean, I was in a Westerguard film once when I was little-“  
  
She paled at the sight of two pairs of chillingly green eyes. Maybe they were trying to figure out if they recognised her. Yeah, that was it. “It was uhrm… it was The Snow Queen, I was the little girl at the start…”  
  
“That Anna Winters?” Hector asked, seeming… well, she didn’t know what he seemed. Sure, it hadn’t been some massive part and there was only so well you could act a couple of lines but… well maybe he was happy?  
  
Maybe not.  
  
“Sweetheart…” two expressions of faux pity. Hector pushed her sheet to one side of the table. “That’s all the evidence of your performance that we could need; we’ll call you.”  
  
Oh.  
  
Her feet carried her stiffly off the stage as she couldn’t help but linger on the look the brothers exchanged as they took one last look at her papers. Maybe, just maybe, it was a good thing. They knew her, right?  
  
She thought she might gag when the backstage doors closed behind her and for a moment the cold air couldn’t have been more suffocating. It was never supposed to go like this. The instant rejection, the excuses they could barely be bothered to create, that happened to other girls who… who were simply unlucky.  
  
It was the look that unnerved her. Mentioning her involvement in a Westerguard production – especially The Snow Queen – was the next best thing to being related to the director when it came to dropping names, and until now its effect upon Westerguard affiliates had been even more impressive. Sure, the father of the company was stepping down and with thirteen sons there was probably a load of competition when it came to splitting up the whole thing but they were all brothers in the end and-  
  
Oh, it was raining.  
  
The first drops she noticed – and had she mentioned how typical it was for there to be rain in a moment like this? – were because all of a sudden her eyes were stinging and blurry. She wiped her face on her sleeve, saw the fresh black smudge, regretted it, and marched on towards the main street with all the dignity she could muster. If you had no choice but to walk somewhere with half a face of ruined makeup and clothes getting gradually more soaked by the minute, you had to at least try to do it with confidence.  
  
There was still a small crowd of hopefuls huddled in groups where the rain didn’t reach. The curb opposite the building was obscured by a line of waiting cabs, just a quick dash across the road, as there always seemed to be at auditions. They knew there would be business.  
  
She reached instinctively into her bag for her purse as she stepped onto the road in the break between cabs roaring around the corner, stopping in her tracks when she found nothing but the soft inner lining, a wrapper, that one empty tube of lipstick she’d never thrown away.  
  
No no no, she held it open to search for hidden pockets it never had. It was hours by foot, and that wasn’t the worst part! She was more concerned about Gerda and how many times she’d have called the police by the time she got back. Not to mention how drenched her blouse and skirt would end up, her shoes were already soaked through from the water on the road-

When something comes speeding towards you with the unhelpful blaring of its horn, people like to think they’d be able to overcome the terror. People only ever freeze up in movies.  
  
Anna froze too.  
  
In all honesty, it did little more than graze her hip and the fact that she ended up on the ground was the fault of her own last moment reaction. She’d expected a flash of agony, she even wondered if the metal would be cold, and how getting hit worked when you weren’t a stunt double with a mattress behind you.  
  
So naturally, before she had the chance to come to her senses, she imagined the cold curb and the blurry figure above her meant she was most definitely dead.  
  
“-lean against me, there you go,” there was a hand in hers and another around her shoulders, pulling her effortlessly to her feet. She couldn’t bring herself to break away for more reasons than her aching hip.  
  
He had two piercing green eyes. This time they didn’t frighten her.  
  
A warm gentleman’s coat was draped over her shoulders – his coat – and either it worked immediately or she was blushing far too intensely.  
  
“Are you hurt, miss? At the very least allow me to see you to the hospital.” Oh what a voice. She could forgive the slight waver.  
  
Seeing as her subconscious still imagined she was dead and he was some sort of wonderful angel, she could be forgiven for gazing at her supposed saviour for far too long. The only complaint was that he looked far too much like a Westerguard with that coppery hair and those impossibly alluring eyes. He was younger though, perhaps nearer her age and not nearly as imposing as the men she’d faced in the theatre.  
  
His brow furrowed deeper in concern and she realized that she’d been gazing rather than answering.  
  
“I-I’m Anna- just Anna, really, I’m fine, I mean I fell over but I’m fine.” She didn’t quite manage a convincingly demure smile.  
  
He smiled too, and those freckles solved everything.  
  
“Just Anna? Well, I’m just Hans.” He took his arm from her shoulder, but her hand remained clasped gently in his. He turned to his car – what she could assume was a Cadillac – and opened the passenger door for her. She climbed in without thinking, clutching his coat tightly around her shoulders.  
  
“Did you come here for the auditions?” she asked before thinking as he settled in his own seat. Hans wrinkled his nose but the expression was gone in a blink.  
  
“I didn’t think the dress would suit me.” He replied. “You know, Anna, you have the perfect features for film-“he seemed to catch himself stumbling towards an awkward tone of discussion. “Was that a weird way to say it? Unless you hear it from everyone, I imagine they loved your performance in there.”  
  
She took too long to think of a light-hearted response and fell silent instead.  
  
Hans joined her in the silence until he got the engine thrumming.  
  
“I don’t suppose you’d agree to dinner with me, Just Anna?”

\---

With damp clothes and Anna’s still smudged makeup, he still wanted to go to a place she only knew of because they’d rejected her application after she was way too eager to talk to – and, as they saw it, disturb – the clientele. It was fancier than she remembered for last time, or maybe she just expected everywhere to be falling apart like the shops and cafes of her own neighbourhood.  
  
Those kind of thoughts died a little more with each of Han’s charming flourishes; the soft napkin he fetched to help fix her makeup, the private table he took her to, the bottle of wine, the best food she’d ever had and most of all his undivided attention no matter how much she babbled or how relentlessly she questioned him.  
  
“So the two guys in there, they were your brothers?” she’d tugged the hem of her skirt down after noticing the more conservative attire of other female patrons.  
  
“Hector and Harvig?”  
  
“Mhm.”  
  
“They’re two of my brothers, at least.” He grinned when he caught her puzzled tilt of the head. “I have twelve of them.” He explained with a practiced emphasis. “It makes me the youngest Westerguard heir; I have nieces and nephews older than I am. They’ve tried to convince me I’m adopted, invisible, a troll, everything! I think that’s just the danger of having brothers.” His laugh was refreshingly sincere.  
  
Anna caught herself staring too intently at her plate. When she looked up, Hans seemed to be expecting an answer.  
  
“Oh, I guess I wouldn’t know. I only have a sister and she’s… travelling.”  
  
It wasn’t technically a lie, at least she told herself that and kept smiling. If her hesitation to discuss her sister showed, then Hans didn’t spot it, and she moved on. “She’s never really been into the whole acting thing, it must be so great having all your brothers into the whole producing and directing stuff!”  
  
“Well, it makes for more than a healthy amount of competition between us, especially with all the business of father’s decision.” He leaned forward as he continued, his voice softening. “The official family stance on his stepping down is that control of the Westerguard Company will go to our eldest brother – Vilkas – and we’ll continue working under him. Unofficially… he refuses to discuss it with anyone beyond bouts of pointed criticism of our work and dramatically cutting our funding. Vilkas suspected he was testing us and everyone took that to mean it’s every man for himself.”  
  
Anna took a sip of wine as he spoke, accustomed enough to the taste not to shudder. He really talked with his hands; if his eyes weren’t meeting hers they were on his own gestures.  
  
“They really think your dad would do that?”  
  
Hans shrugged. It seemed aloof but his sweeping movements never even came close to grazing anything on the table.  
  
“Among my eldest brothers it’s always been a fight to impress him as much as possible. It used to be all about remaking his classic films and emulating the early Westerguard style, now anything even resembling the old productions is off limits – the same scripts, the same actors-“ he paused for a sip of wine and smiled apologetically. “That’s why they sent you away when they recognised you. It’s actually lucky I hit you – Not like that! I mean, one of my scouts caught your name on the audition schedule and I had to come and find you.”  
  
Her fork paused on the way to her mouth.  
  
What was she doing? Getting into the car of a complete stranger, where nobody knew she would be, listening to all these supposed family secrets without figuring there was something suspicious? Sure he had the ID of Hans Westerguard, but the charm and the fancy restaurant and did he just say he was trying to find her?  
  
“Hans, it’s flattering you tracked me down and all, but I don’t do a-adult films or-“  
  
“No no no it’s not that!” he half rose with her, reaching for her hand. “Just hear me out, please?” he finished, softer.  
  
He’s not that kind of man, she told herself, you can trust him… at least as much as you’d trust anyone else. This time when she sat her guard was up – perhaps where it should have been the entire time.  
  
“I thought you were all avoiding your father’s classics.” She said, stiffly. “That’s why Hector and Harvig sent me away, wasn’t it? Because I was in The Snow Queen.”  
  
“It’s just one of hundreds of wild guesses my brothers have been making. They believe every rumor because the alternative is being alone in somehow insulting our father. There’s so much playing it safe over things that make no sense; aside from those two it’s every man for himself… and seeing as there’s no other way to be anything more than the thirteenth son, I’m going to release my own feature.” There was that excitement again, that sparkle in his eye that betrayed a genuine passion. “It’ll be my first, and completely original, but it’ll work.”  
  
“But why me?” she blurted. Well, he didn’t actually answer her question.  
  
“It all works together: my father got started with documentaries, but he made his name with The Snow Queen. I know I said we wanted to play it safe and stay away from all his other works… well, if I don’t take a risk like that, I’ll never stand out. That’s why I need you, to be that connection to his first masterpiece. It’ll be a documentary, too, but you’ll be the face of it – I’ll have experts on board but it takes experience to deliver to the camera.”  
  
“On board?” she wasn’t sure how she’d listened for so long without protest. It sounded crazy, too good to be true, the only reasonable part of the whole project was that it presumably had Westerguard backing.  
  
“Oh, yes, the location. I negotiated the opportunity to film among a previously unknown tribe on an island off the coast of South America. It doesn’t have an official name until the local governments decide on the ownership of the land, but they’re welcoming my crew and the business we could bring to the mainland.”  
  
The food didn’t look quite so appetizing any more, but the butterflies in her stomach weren’t the sort that told her to make a run for it any more.  
  
“It likes like a holiday, almost…” her smile needed a bit of work to be convincing. “So, I’ll be pretending to be an expert on these people? Not a character?”  
  
“It’s not the most… traditional type of acting; we need a figurehead and a plot to bring people in. I’ll be filming a journey, Anna, adventure without ridiculous or impossible feats to cheapen it, and I need someone like you to help me make that happen.”  
  
It was far, far, too good to be true, but she liked those odds.


End file.
